


Small Town (Everybody's Safe and Sound)

by Perilous_Grey



Series: RoyEd OTPoly Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Durarara!!, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Edward Elric Swears, Established Relationship, Izaya Being Izaya (Durarara!!), M/M, On the part of both series, Roy is not having a good day, Shizuo actually puts his uniform to appropriate use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perilous_Grey/pseuds/Perilous_Grey
Summary: “Well, well, well, to what do I owe this particular pleasure?”He stepped into the light, all willowed grace as finely honed as the blades he carried without fail, street light bleeding into the shadows just enough to reveal glittering red eyes and a smirk.Roy reinforced his mask of neutrality. “Why don’t we skip the formalities and cut to the chase then. Neither of us are fans of wasting time when it could be better spent productively, are we, Mr. Orihara?”
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Series: RoyEd OTPoly Prompt Fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828396
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54
Collections: RoyEd OTPoly 2020





	Small Town (Everybody's Safe and Sound)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the RoyEd OTPoly. This took way too long but it kept growing and growing and now it's finely semi-coherent (and at the word limit). 
> 
> Position name: Free Parking  
> Property name: Crossovers  
> Prompt: Write a crossover AU. Crossover may be with any fandom you wish.  
> Hotel level: 3500 ~ 5000 words
> 
> This is written primarily from an FMA point of view, so no prior knowledge of the Durarara!! canon is particularly needed, though if you're familiar it adds another layer of fun. Ikebukuro is essentially Central City for the purposes of this fic. Takes place post canon of Brotherhood with obvious canon divergence and some vague AU of season one of Durarara!!. I haven't seen that particular series in years and haven't written any of the those characters prior to this so please read with a grain of salt.
> 
> If you're here for the Shizaya or strictly a Durarara!! fan this might not be for you, as the relationships are not the main focus of the story and Roy and Ed are the POV characters.
> 
> Title taken from "Small Town" by Kero Kero Bonito.

Thursdays officially sucked.

Roy regarded the lipstick stained envelope that had slid out between two of the many folders Riza had so kindly dropped off earlier, currently lying torn open and slightly crumpled on his desk, hopes dashed by bold strokes of emerald green ink.

The Madam had been thwarted.

Her girls had been unable to dig up the lead he needed to crack this current case wide open and prevent the death of another hapless victim. Two months the bodies had been appearing all over the city: an abandoned alley here, a deserted park there, all areas that were usually avoided at odd hours. 

Until last week.

The case had become Roy’s when the fourth and latest victim was identified as a young corporal, found perched on a bench in Central Park with her throat slashed open, purse sitting untouched in her lap. 

Accordingly, the brass wanted this closed as soon as possible and one of his best chances had just gone up in smoke.

Roy exhaled heavily, took a moment to relish the last moment of silence he was going to have for the day, heaved himself out of his chair, and grabbed his greatcoat. Once adjusted to his liking he stepped into the outer office.

Time for reluctant plan B.

Riza’s gaze zeroed in on him immediately, brow raising in silent demand. She was the only one left of the usual suspects, pulling longer hours as Roy himself was wont to do these past couple months, generously taking on some of his usual paperwork in light of their current top priority.

Roy eyed the sunset streaming through the windows behind her as the clock ticked over the half six mark. He was well aware he was breaking the new routine of 8’oclock or later departure, Riza herself leaving no sooner than seven, but time was of the essence and twilight was on the horizon.

The person he needed to see operated on a nightly basis and without an appointment, it would be even harder to track them down. Night was, after all, the time when secrets slithered from their hiding places and into the ears of those curious and determined enough to find out their truths.

“Sir,” Riza prompted.

He smiled winningly. “I have a meeting.”

Riza’s other eyebrow joined its twin. “At this hour?”

“Time waits for no man, Major, and neither does my companion.” 

Riza slowly sat back in her chair, pen clicking threateningly.

Roy felt the faintest trace of sweat break across his neck. “It has to do with the case, believe it or not.”

“I am inclined to not, as Thursdays are your usual date night with Edward.”

“Not lately,” Roy muttered. “but we have plans for after my engagement, later in the evening.” Hopefully.

Why had they decided on Thursdays as weekly date night? If it wasn’t his work hours, an emergency that popped into existence five minutes before he was due to clock out, or strategizing his endless political moves, Ed was neck deep in a research binge on the cusp of revolutionizing alchemy, awkwardly consoling one of his panicking students, or on more than one occasion, thwarting his own kidnapping.

And that was before this case had landed on Roy’s moderately paperwork free desk, sending any semblance of a stable schedule careening out the window, express drop straight to hell.

Insomnia had welcomed him back with open arms. The nights he didn’t make it home, orange whorls of street lamp light and yawning shadows kept him company, painting their way across his office ceiling as his brain tirelessly churned over what little they knew. sleep desperately clawing at the backs of his eyelids.

Ed, in all his golden, gruff generosity, would always bring him a to-go cup of fresh brew the following morning. The all-nighters he had pulled more often in the past couple weeks saw him woken by the freshly ground scent just as his office door clicked closed, a soft, haggard smile crossing Ed’s lips.

Truly, Edward could be an angel when he wanted to be, despite the demonic exterior that he regularly wore.

Roy blinked out of his idle musing to find Riza eyeing him even more suspiciously. She could spot his daydreaming face a mile away after half a lifetime of friendship.

Riza hummed. “I haven’t received any calls from panicking underlings, so it can’t be a new update. A lead then?” She idly spun the pen between her fingers, a continuous rotation that reminded Roy she could draw her sidearm faster than he could make it two steps, let alone across the room.

“That’s what I am going to find out,” he smiled wider.

“Without backup?”

“Kanra has a fairly exacting set of standards for meetings, namely, one-on-one.”

Riza frowned.

“I will be careful, as always,” Roy blatantly lied, “and these days I am never unarmed.”

Riza’s frown dipped lower and Roy felt a cold prickle of guilt at being the cause of at least two of the stress lines that subsequently furrowed her brow.

“Very well then, sir,” she quietly sighed, “but you will call if anything happens,” _or else_ went unsaid. Roy had no intention of testing Riza’s creativity when it came to punishments.

Roy nodded. “Dismissed for the day, Major.”

He swept across the floor and out the door before Riza could change her mind, absently pulling on his gloves.

Time to see what the shadows knew.

***

Ed was going to _kill him._

The third time in as many weeks that Roy had to cancel their usual dinner out and he couldn’t even call? Not that canceling was the issue at hand, he could certainly understand the demands of the job coming before personal relationships; hell, his entire existence had revolved around restoring Al for four years of his life with room for little else. Roy’s quest to claw his way to the top of the military food chain was just a longer game. 

He got it.

What he didn’t get was why his idiot boyfriend couldn’t take five minutes to tell him or have one of his trusted subordinates call ahead; he knew precisely where Ed was supposed to be. And on time for once.

When half eight rolled around, Ed wasn’t overly concerned. Roy was a punctual bastard and usually made a point of showing up five minutes early wherever he went and strolling in precisely on the dot, but with work as hellish as it had been, this wasn’t the first time Roy had been fashionably late. 

When 9 o’clock came and went, Ed raised a brow in inquiry at Vanessa, the lucky employee entertaining bar patrons for the evening. She shook her head with a sympathetic smile, mixed him a Drachman staple made of ginger beer and vodka with enough bite to knock someone flat on their ass, then floated away to attend to other patrons.

By half nine he was scowling hard enough to deter anyone from sitting in the back corner near him despite the busy hour, copper mug empty at his elbow, ready to pummel the first person who so much as glanced in his direction to drown out the worry buzzing in his ears. Had something gone wrong? Was there a last minute lead? An emergency? Was Roy out there pounding the pavement, closing in on the asshole perpetrators while Ed was sitting on his ass twiddling his thumbs, complaining about a missed date?

Had he fallen asleep at his desk?

Ed startled out of his brooding at the loud thud of a telephone being set in front of him, gaze darting up into the faintly amused eyes of Madam Christmas, a single finely plucked eyebrow raised in question.

“You’ll glare a hole into my bar at the rate you’re going, kid. Call.”

Ed rolled his eyes but reached for the receiver anyway. Dialing Roy’s direct line, he gave a small smile in gratitude, idly observing as Madam Christmas lit a cigarette and leaned on the bar counter, unashamedly eavesdropping. 

Riza picked up.

“Who the hell is he meeting this late on a workday?” Ed grumbled into the speaker once he’d gotten over the mental disconnect of expectation versus reality and Riza filled him in. 

A glass of orange juice was set down in his line of sight. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Vanessa, who winked in return before sliding over an unused ashtray to the Madam. “Tell Roy it’s all going on his tab and that he should know better,” she said, returning to the main hubbub of the front counter, leaving the two alone in the blessedly quiet corner.

_“A good question,” Hawkeye said in a tinny rendition of her normal cool tones, _“he said they might be in possession of information related to the case, so I assume he went to verify the authenticity of the source.”__

__

“Did he mention a name or where he was going?” Ed was vehemently not one of those people who needed to know where their significant other was at any given time, demanding to know when they were going out or with who. Everyone was entitled to privacy.

__

But leaving work early and ditching your date to do who knows what at odd hours definitely, partially, justified doing some snooping.

__

_“Yes,”_ Hawkeye’s pause was telling in of itself. _“He said he had a meeting with an individual named Kanra.”_

__

Madam Christmas paused in taking another drag from her cigarette. Frowning, she shot Ed an unreadable glance, stubbed out her cigarette, and disappeared through the employee’s door into the back. 

__

_That_ couldn’t be good.

__

“Never heard of ‘em.”

__

_“Neither have I.”_ Though that wasn’t too surprising considering Roy’s extensive web of contacts, let alone the people he spent a fair majority of his time pandering to in order to get whatever he needed from them. _“As he told me to close up the office when I headed out, I doubt he will be returning to the office. Perhaps you can convince him to actually rest for the evening.”_

__

“Fat chance,” Ed scoffed. “Maybe I’ll just knock him out as he steps in the front door whenever he gets back from meeting this Kanra; two birds, one stone.”

__

_“Try not to leave any lasting damage,”_ Hawkeye said dryly.

__

Nowhere visible, anyway. Whether Roy’s brain finally absorbed a lesson in trusting his people to guard some of the cards he kept close to his chest was up for debate. 

__

The press had had a field day when Roy showed up to a public appearance with a lovely plum purple bruise the size of a baseball across his jaw, the result of a sparring match gone wrong. Roy’s face had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, a playful hit meant to get the man to stop leering at Ed’s ass and actually work on improving his hand-to-hand skills, only Roy had been a lot closer than Ed had anticipated when he wheeled around in a lazy roundhouse kick, at just the right distance that instead of hitting a muscled chest, the blow landed square in his face.

__

Hawkeye’s thunderous frown the following morning had sent Ed scrambling from Central Command like a bat out of hell.

__

The slamming of glass interrupted Ed’s reply. Glancing up, he caught the eye of a blond man in a bartending uniform, jaw visibly ticking as he polished glassware. Next to him was a burgeoning stack of clean cups.

__

Had Vanessa’s shift ended early? The man wasn’t a familiar face amongst the bar’s usual all female staff.

__

_“Edward?”_

__

“Right, no late night sparring matches, no fighting of any kind that could result in immediate or permanent injury, just a quick lethal strike.”

__

Hawkeye’s exhale was distinctly amused. _“Don’t miss.”_

__

“Hey, technically I didn’t miss last time, his face just got in the way.”

__

_“Good night, Edward.”_

__

“G’night, Riza.”

__

Ed didn’t bother reassuring her he’d call if anything came up — she’d be on alert until Roy showed up bright and early the next morning to grovel. 

__

He had barely set down the receiver when the aggravated bartender encroached on his unoccupied corner, eyeing his untouched juice dubiously.

__

“What’s a kid like you want with Kanra?” he asked point blank.

__

“What’s it to you, oldman?” Ed sneered. He was twenty-two, dammit, where did this asshole get off judging him? Not every drink served in a bar had to be alcoholic. 

__

Alright, so his temper might have been fraying _just_ a bit.

__

“Depends,” the man leaned against the bar, staring through a pair of purple sunglasses that Ed would honestly consider complementing in any other situation. Or stealing.

__

Ed’s brow ticked. “On?”

__

“Why exactly you’re looking.”

__

“And if I said it was none of your business?”

__

The guy raised an eyebrow. “It’s not. Frankly, I’d rather forget Madam Christmas told me someone was interested in the first place because I hate this whole cloak and dagger bullshit, but if the Fullmetal Alchemist is looking for Kanra, there’s a damn good reason.”

__

Ed mulled over the bartender’s response. The Madam wouldn’t let just anyone work the bar of her establishment, front or otherwise, so the guy couldn’t be a simple work-for-hire. Maybe extra security in light of the city’s heightened vigilance? General paranoia? One couldn't ever be too comfortable in the information trade, after all...

__

“I’m no longer a dog of the military,” he addressed first, and far too often. Honestly, he should make a few buttons that read ‘YES, I AM THE FORMER FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST’ in eye searing colors and pin them to every shirt he owned and some of Roy’s for good measure, “and even if I was, what exactly could this Kanra do for me?”

__

There was a noticeable twitch of the other’s lips. “Just about anything... for the right price.”

__

“How about finding a serial killer that’s been murdering innocent people lately?”

__

The bespectacled man casually glanced over his shoulder to check for any prying ears then turned back to give Ed a critical once over, setting aside the now-gleaming prop glass.

__

“Most likely,” he leaned over the bar, broad, calloused palms planted firmly to loom, “but if you’re no longer a state sanctioned tool,” he lightly snarled, “then why are you so interested in shoving your nose where it ain’t wanted?”

__

“I’m not the Alchemist of the People anymore but I still give a shit about ‘em, and right now, they could use all the help they can get, old man.” Ed snarled right back, nose to nose with the bartender who still hadn’t given his name, anger thrumming molten hot through his veins.

__

He didn’t mention his blockheaded boyfriend had already gone to seek out whoever the hell this Kanra was and could guess by how cagey this guy was acting that they weren’t any form of good news. Shit, the queen of information herself had paused at Kanra's name. Which meant Roy was desperate to go at all and even more prone to idiocy without someone to back him up.

__

They locked glares for a minor eternity, stances resolute, wills unwavering.

__

Then the guy huffed, shook his head, and stood back up to his full height, leaving Ed momentarily bereft, the cocktail of anger, worry, annoyance, and impatience having no outlet but to stew.

__

“Fuck that oldman shit,” the bartender said with a grimace, “name’s Shizuo, kid.”

__

“Call me kid again and I’ll show you why they let me join the military in the first place,” Ed grinned with a mouth full of fangs, “Ed works just fine.”

__

Shizuo stifled a grin of his own, approval glinting through his tinted shades. “My shift ends in fifteen. Stick around and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

__

Ed stared at the intricately carved clock nailed to the wall just over Shizuo’s head. How was it already nearing 11 o’clock?

__

The sticky threads of worry he’d batted away earlier came crawling back, heart fluttering in dismay.

__

Still no word from Roy. 

__

_He’s fine, he’s a grown ass man that survived long before you took up the mantle of worrying for his safety._

__

Shizuo frowned at him. “Don’t stress too much, if your missing friend went to see Kanra there’s a decent chance he’s still alive.”

__

Ed blinked in surprise.

__

“What, you think I’d offer out of the blue? My employer asked for a favor.”

__

“Great,” Ed muttered. Still, he’d come out on top of slimmer odds, and Roy’s luck tended to run a hair or two or ten better.

__

As if summoned, Madam Christmas chose that moment to glide back into the bar area, a fresh cigarette already lit between her cherry painted lips. “Shizuo, would you be a dear and take out the trash on your way out?”

__

Curious, Ed followed her sharp gaze to the opposite end where two heavily inebriated, rowdy patrons were getting handsy. Vanessa appeared to be contemplating the merits of spraying them with a face full of ice water. Or pepper spray.

__

One of the two drunkards knocked another customer’s drink straight into their lap and laughed uproariously.

__

“With pleasure,” Shizuo grinned, slightly demonic.

__

“I’ll help,” Ed smiled with too many teeth, blood beginning to sing in savage glee as he slid from his barstool.

__

As he passed, Madam Christmas pinned him with a heavy stare. “Tell that idiot to call, he’s got far too many people riled up for a Thursday, important clandestine meeting or not.”

__

“Just as soon as I’m done throttling him.”

__

“Is that what the kids are calling sex these days?”

__

Ed choked, Shizuo guffawed, and the Madam smirked.

__

__

***

__

_  
_

__

“Well, well, well, to what do I owe _this_ particular pleasure?”

__

Roy grit his teeth, determined to get through this interaction as quickly as possible with minimal bloodshed. Unfortunately, it was often easier said than done.

__

“Cat got your tongue? That’s not like you,” the silky cadence crooned mockingly, “especially when I have an idea of just what you’re here for. Attempting to glare me into submission isn’t going to work any better than it has in the past, Roy-Boy, and it’s certainly not the way I conduct business.”

__

He stepped into the light, all willowed grace as finely honed as the blades he carried without fail, street light bleeding into the shadows just enough to reveal glittering red eyes and a smirk.

__

Roy reinforced his mask of neutrality. “Why don’t we skip the formalities and cut to the chase then. Neither of us are fans of wasting time when it could be better spent productively, are we, Mr. Orihara?”

__

The smirk widened. “You got me there Roy-Boy, information does move oh so quick these days. Wouldn’t it be a shame to miss what you’re looking for because you dawdled on pleasantries?” Orihara took another step forward, the shadows of the alleyway reluctantly relinquishing their embrace. He wore his trademark dark ensemble, fur lined, hooded jacket included, seemingly no matter the day, time, or season. “You must be pretty desperate to seek me out. Investigation not going too well?”

__

“I thought we were cutting right to the chase.” Roy said, hands fisting in his greatcoat’s pockets, out of sight.

__

Izaya leaned against the grimy brick wall. “All work and no play makes you a dull, military peon, Roy-Boy,” he cooed, “but then again, isn’t that exactly what you want? Surrounded by an unknowing flock, all the better for the slaughter?”

__

“This isn’t a personal call, Mr. Orihara.”

__

“How disappointing,” he sighed theatrically, “and here I thought we were old friends.” 

__

“We both know you don’t have any friends,” Roy stated blandly. 

__

“Funny, I could say the same about you,” Orihara paused, slowly tilting his head, “at least, not anymore.” 

__

Roy was going to kill him. Was already imagining that infuriating smirk melting off Orihara’s delicate visage in his mind, fighting the visceral urge to snap his ignition cloth covered fingers in reality and demonstrate why State Alchemists were still considered human weapons.

__

Especially under duress.

__

His killing intent must have been quite potent because in a blink Orihara had straightened and kicked off the chipped brick to face Roy head on, professional mask sliding firmly in place. “While it may be true I lack people in the friend department, I do have plenty of clients, contacts, and connections that are readily available for whatever information you happen to be in the market for.”

__

Roy inhaled deeply in a valiant attempt to reign in his temper, forced his reply through gritted teeth, “What, no shared sordid history discount?”

__

The other’s bland facade didn’t waver. “Knowing exploitable weaknesses is part and parcel of the trade as I’m sure you’re aware. How one comes across those points... well, it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, business is business.”

__

Except when it wasn’t. Except when that business had roots in the personal and grew so tangled it took a vicious saw blade to tear through the stalks to remove the plant entirely.

__

Except when you surrendered the business to the personal and let it rule your life with a blinding grin of sunshine that made you question your very being. 

__

But that was neither here nor there and he’d be damned before _that_ nugget of information slithered its way through the shadows until they were full and ready to let it shine under daylight.

__

“Yes,” Roy said, pulling the thought close and wrapping it like armor around his wrathful, vulnerable will, burnished gold and steel strong in his mind’s eye, “and at the moment there appears to be a larger than normal business in kidnapping and murder these days. What can you tell me about its trendsetters?”

__

“I can tell you this isn’t the best place to be having this conversation, but if you follow me, we can continue discussing elsewhere.” Orihara didn’t glance away until Roy reluctantly acquiesced with a nod, turning on his heel to be swallowed up by the darkness once more. He didn’t look back.

__

Roy didn’t hesitate to follow.

__

__

***

__

__  


__

Ed wasn’t sure where he expected to meet a secretive figure of the underground information trade but a twenty-four hour sushi restaurant was not in his top ten list.

__

“What,” he said.

__

Shizuo pulled open the glass entrance door, speaking over his shoulder, “The sushi’s pretty good if you’re a fan of extremely experimental flavors,” and left Ed gaping, quickly following the taller man inside.

__

“Ah, look who it is! Shizuo!” A booming, heavily Drachman accented voice scarily reminiscent of Major Armstrong in its intensity called from the front counter. The man behind the register had russet brown skin, a densely muscled frame, and a dazzling smile that revealed matching dimples.

__

Said smile suddenly transferred to Ed and geez, was this why Shizuo wore sunglasses inside? In case he encountered such blinding expressions of pure joy? “And you brought a friend! Booth for you?”

__

“Nah, Simon, not this time,” Shizuo waved a hand carelessly, “good to see you though. Are they—?”

__

Simon straightened, posture shifting from carefree to on guard in a blink, brilliant smile still firmly in place. “Ah, I see, all business tonight. Come! To the back we go.” He slipped out from behind the counter and headed deeper into the restaurant.

__

Shizuo navigated the half-full tables with ease, like he’d done it a million times before, Ed a step behind. The interior _seemed_ legitimate, customers dotted between tables talking, laughing, and whispering to each other without a care. Just another evening out.

__

Who the hell was Kanra to be operating out of the back of an all hours sushi joint?

__

One table maze and two hallways later, they reached Simon, who stood beside a wooden sliding door.

__

“Thanks,” Shizuo said, already reaching to open it.

__

“No problem! Yell if you need anything.” Simon gave them another smile then headed back down the hall.

__

Wood grated against metal track, swiftly revealing— 

__

Two dark haired figures sitting at a low table, one nonchalantly eating sashimi with a bored air and the other —

__

Ed’s missing dumbass.

__

A mildly frustrated, visibly surprised dumbass whose carefully folded hands didn’t lose their tension even after identifying who was in the doorway.

__

“Yo,” Ed said mildly to the room at large, before zeroing in on Roy with the intensity of the molotov cocktail that had been burning in his chest all night, “next time you feel like playing hide-and-seek, a heads up from your own damn mouth would be nice, especially since this game involves meeting super shady blackmarket information dealers about an ongoing serial murderer _without telling anyone_.” He glanced at Kanra. “No offense.”

__

“None taken,” Kanra smirked, popping another piece of sashimi into their mouth. Shizuo sprawled across the floor next to them, arm reaching across the table to snag their barely touched water glass.

__

“Ed, what are you doing here?” Roy asked, brows furrowing in that vee he vehemently denied was cute every time Ed caught him frowning.

__

No, focus, interrogation now, make-up sex later.

__

“Better question,” Ed glared, “what are _you_ doing here without backup and why haven’t we eaten here before?”

__

Roy paused, mouth already open to retort. He blinked. “That’s two questions.”

__

Ed steamrolled ahead.

__

“I called Hawkeye to find out how late you were going to be this time, y’know, like a sensible person, only to find out you’d already left for the day—”

__

“I didn’t expect—”

__

“Oh, what you expect? Well _I_ expected to see your ungrateful ass stroll into the Madam’s bar, late but apologetic, have a drink or two, then grab some takeout on the way home and enjoy the first free night we’ve had in ages,” Ed glared smolderingly, “thoroughly.”

__

It might have been a trick of the light but Ed could have sworn Roy flushed. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “our meeting is almost concluded and the night is still young...” a hint of a purr tinged the last couple words.

__

“It’s almost midnight. On a work night.”

__

“...I am yours for the weekend.”

__

Ed narrowed his eyes.

__

“Alright, if we get this case wrapped up by Sunday, I shall implore Hawkeye for the following Friday off and we can hopefully have a languorous three day weekend, just you, me, and a mountain of takeout.”

__

Ed cocked an eyebrow. “Emergency calls only and we open that vintage bottle of wine I know you’ve been hiding for some stupidly nebulous special occasion.”

__

“Only the best for you,” Roy simpered.

__

Great, now _his_ cheeks were faintly burning. “Knock it off,” Ed rolled his eyes.

__

Belatedly remembering that manners were indeed a thing, Ed finally sat down next to Roy, turning to the individual who could only be Kanra. “Uh, hi. Edward Elric.” He didn’t offer a hand.

__

Roy relaxed fractionally into his side, their shoulders lightly brushing.

__

Kanra didn’t seem offended, if the smirk on their face said anything. “Izaya Orihara, at your service. It appears you are already acquainted with the brute next to me.” He gestured lazily to a bored looking Shizuo.

__

“Mr. Heiwajima,” Roy nodded. Ed didn’t question how he knew him. Hell, he could’ve been the one to refer the man to Madam Christmas in first place.

__

Shizuo grunted. “Great, we’re all acquainted. Are you two almost done here?”

__

Ed grinned. Shizuo favored being blunt as well.

__

“I’ll have your information tomorrow evening,” Izaya said, dismissing Shizuo entirely.

__

“How will I know it’s accurate?” Roy asked.

__

“Don’t ask questions you don’t truly want the answers to, Mr. Führer-in-waiting, people will think you’re a tease,” his focus shifted to Ed, ruby eyes glittering, “and I, for one, don’t mix business with pleasure.”

__

He _knew_.

__

Then again, they hadn’t been very subtle over the course of this strange dinner.

__

Roy exhaled, muscles taught with a predatory stillness, coiled to spring for the kill, “Is that a threat?”

__

An unholy glee lit Izaya’s features, smirk widening to show a hint of teeth. “What if it is?”

__

Roy was about to be lining the owner’s coffers for extensive damage repairs, only they wouldn’t be coming out of Ed’s paycheck this time. At least it wouldn’t be his fault.

__

Ed prepared to launch himself proactively across the table— 

__

Which suddenly split down the middle with an almighty crack.

__

“Quit being a brat!” Shizuo growled fiercely at Izaya, unfazed by the splinters jabbing into his tightly clenched fist half-embedded into the wood, “I swear, you intentionally go out of your way to provoke homicidal urges in everyone, flea, myself at the top of the goddamned list!”

__

Izaya clicked his tongue. “Always ruining my fun, Shizu-chan, how else am I supposed to judge my lovely humans’ mettle?”

__

“Mettle my ass, you just want to feed your adrenaline junky tendencies since I don’t throw random shit at you anymore.” Shizuo jerked his hand free of the miraculously still standing, if deeply concave table, casually picking out blood tinged slivers.

__

“Pot, kettle.”

__

“Oh, I can start again if you really want me to.”

__

“You couldn’t afford the property damage,” Izaya scoffed.

__

Shizuo grinned threateningly, “It’s our property damage now.”

__

Oh.

__

“You’re shitting me,” Ed muttered.

__

“Ah,” Roy said, eyeing the two with newfound intrigue, “what was that about not mixing business with pleasure, Mr. Orihara? I do believe Central’s strongest man still works as a debt collector for certain... organizations.” He smiled blandly.

__

It was Ed’s turn to smack something: namely, his boyfriend, right between the third and fourth rib.

__

“Being an equally petty ass isn’t going to get us out of here any faster,” he ignored Roy’s hiss of pain (the baby, he hadn’t even hit that hard) and turned to the quietly bickering couple, “look, you two got your intel exchange worked out before Shizuo and I got here, yeah? Then let’s just call it a night and forget your backroom tête-à-tête ever happened.”

__

Ed grinned widely, a hand coming to rest on Roy’s hunched shoulder. “Everybody wins.”

__

The other two exchanged a long glance, Izaya absently wrapping Shizuo’s hand in a crumpled napkin.

__

“Deal.”

__

“Great, now what do you recommend from the menu?”

__


End file.
